The Ballad of the Strangers
by writer writing
Summary: When Sister Ruth becomes the victim of a violent crime, she loses her memory and has a hard time adjusting to the fact that she has a husband and 3 children. 1844. AU. Fifteenth in a series.
1. Chapter 1

Sister Ruth and Kid were having a Sunday stroll. He swore it helped with his consumption. She had her doubts, but it was his body, so she figured he ought to know.

He slipped his hand into hers. Maybe some would consider it foolish at their age to be holding hands, but she thought it was terribly romantic and she rewarded him with a smile. Besides, they were newlyweds after all, despite being in their 60s.

She heard the clunk of cowbells and immediately she was transported to her girlhood when she traipsed around the countryside with her grandmother, sharing the gift of healing with their neighbors. Sometimes praying for the livestock too.

She remembered how her grandmother had told her stories on the way, one of them being about a cowherd who got lost in a mountain and was offered the choice between being given gold coins, a cowbell, or the woman doing the offering and the cowherd chose the cowbell.

It was funny how a sound could take you back through the years. How a memory could lay forgotten until something as simple as cowbells triggered it. She smiled at the pleasant remembrance.

 _April 1844_

The angry rain pelted hard against her bruised skin, plastering her hair that was falling down in dark brown tendrils to her skin. She should have sought shelter, but she remained in a huddle against a brick wall, watching the dirt-packed street turn muddy under her shoes.

She didn't know where she was and that was distressing, but she had the distinct feeling she shouldn't have been there.

It was an alley that much she could tell. It was littered with refuse, unlighted, and abandoned unless one counted the glowing eyes belonging to the rats that feasted in the piles of trash. She couldn't explain why anyone would go into this alley, lest of all her.

It made no sense and the harder she tried to make sense of it, the more her head hurt.

She rubbed her arms in a useless effort to bring warmth, which alerted her to the fact that her sleeve was torn. She didn't want to think about why that was.

A stranger, a man, approached and she stiffened. An unexplained terror filled her.

She relaxed when she saw on closer approach that he wore a badge. The 5 silver points marked him as a friend, a rescuer.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Can you stand?" he asked, now directly in front of her.

"I think so," she said, her voice shook from the cold and the unease she felt.

He put down 2 large, warm hands for her to grasp onto and she gladly accepted them, not sure at all that she could stand despite what she'd said.

Her knees buckled a little, but she didn't fall down as the sheriff reached out to steady her. She smiled in gratitude. He had kind, gray eyes. He was only a little taller than herself and looked to be in his 30s.

The lawman took his tan-colored coat off and held it over her head though as wet as she was, she didn't see how it mattered whether she got a little wetter.

She noticed his gaze went down to her hands. She looked there too. They were grazed and bleeding. No wedding ring. And why did it feel as if she should be holding onto something? Her hands ached to hold something. She folded her arms instead, so they wouldn't feel so empty.

He'd been watching her movements closely. "Were you robbed?" he asked.

She tried to recall what had happened before she found herself hugging the wall. "I'm not sure."

"Were you attacked?"

"I reckon I must have been."

His forehead wrinkled to show he was carefully considering what she said. It smoothed again as he looked at her kindly. "What's your name?"

She opened her mouth to answer him, but nothing came out. She swallowed thickly. "I-I don't know."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: To clear up any confusion, "The Ballad" series explores an alternate timeline that I created starting with "The Ballad of a Healer and a Gunman", where Sister Ruth and Kid Cole met when they were much younger, but I always include a beginning and end scene that is related to the story and from the true timeline of the show.

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Kid looked at his pocket watch. She was supposed to have been back by now. Then he looked down at their youngest child. She wouldn't forget to feed Gideon, who was currently crying for milk.

"What if something happened to Momma?" said Mercy in a small voice as she hugged her knees and stared worriedly out at the rain through the gaping hole of the canvas cover.

"Nothing happened to your momma. People are just late sometimes. That's all." He wished he believed his own words. He had to find someone to watch the children while he went to look for her.

The problem was they'd never been to this town before and he didn't know anyone here, but he went to the safest place he could think of, which was the church named for San Miguel, the archangel. It was a small, unassuming structure with a flat roof and adobe walls.

The priest, who introduced himself as Padre Fray Andrés de Jesus Camacho, seemed the kindly sort and not only agreed to watch the children but offered to let the whole family stay in his quarters as long as they were in town.

Kid hesitated to leave the children with a stranger, priest or no priest, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances and they would be safer here than the part of town he was planning on looking. With any luck, he wouldn't be gone long.

He got the children settled inside the church with some of their favorite things and promised them he'd be right back.

The community was poor and isolated, but not too poor to have a saloon. One of the ladies at the revival had a sister who worked there and apparently wanted a Bible. Ruth had wasted no time in getting it to her though it had been getting dark and the rain had been threatening to fall.

Now it was pitch black and raining and he was worried it had been some kind of a trap. It had gone against his better judgment in letting her go, but she could be headstrong and fearless when it came to doing the Lord's work. Next time, he was going to put his foot down.

The saloon owner and the ladies insisted they hadn't seen her. And when a thorough search provided no sign of her, he had to believe them.

Back out in the now slackening rain, he looked up and down the muddy street. He was more worried than ever. He supposed he would just have to knock on every door until he found answers or Ruth and he would.

He didn't know what compelled him to go down alley near the saloon where the trash was kept when he could see there was no one there, but among the refuse, he found 2 Bibles, one was Ruth's and the other was the one she had been bent on delivering. Now he had proof something bad had happened, but he still had no answers.

He tried to qualm his fears as he picked up the sodden Bibles. He drew his gun out to no purpose as he had nothing to shoot at, however much he wished he did.

"Ruth!" he shouted, in case she could hear him, but he got no answer.

He went back out onto the street. This time his hurried pace became a full-out run as he raced to find his wife.

sss

"I'm the self-appointed sheriff of Socorro," the man said with a charming grin as they walked along, "Chauncey Daniels."

She smiled back though in truth it made her feel more awkward being that she couldn't participate in the name exchange.

The sheriff got the doctor before taking her to his office, which was really his home since there was no city jail.

Chauncey had hot coffee and blankets waiting on her when the exam that was conducted in the bedroom was through.

"It's amazing," the doctor said privately to Chauncey. The woman they talked about sipped on the coffee and stared into the flames as if hoping they would begin to take shape into scenes from her life. "I have never seen anything like it. I don't know if the woman is lying-"

"How dare you. If you had seen the way she looked when she said she didn't know her name, you'd know she was telling the truth."

"Perhaps. The human mind is a mysterious thing, but I do know that I am only capable of treating her body. She received a number of bruises and cuts, but otherwise she's fine. She did have a large bump on the back of her head. Maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe there's something she doesn't want to remember. She makes for an interesting case study. I hope you'll keep me notified. But as for finding out who she is, I suppose that falls to you as the sheriff."

He'd hoped the doctor would be more helpful, but as least she was okay in the physical sense.

"I'll get your mother and get her to bring some fresh clothes too. It wouldn't be seemly for her to stay here without a chaperone."

"Yeah, I guess she will have to stay here, won't she?" He didn't seem all that displeased at the prospect.

The doctor gone, he grabbed a newspaper from back east. Maybe something in it would jog her memory.

"Would you like to read it?" he asked, holding it out in front of her.

"That's kind of you, but no." She kept her hands tightly clasped around her cup.

What did you talk about with someone who had no memory of the past, he wondered. He pulled up a chair in front of hers and scanned for a conversation starter. "March 21st came and went with no event, surprise, surprise." At her confusion, he explained that a religious leader had predicted that it would be the day Christ returned and the world ended.

"No man knows the day," she answered immediately. "Only God does."

"Well, you remember that at least. That makes you smarter than this William fellow."

She gave a small, distracted smile.

"I can tell you're from the south."

She shrugged, not able to confirm or deny it.

"I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. Of course you don't know. So you don't remember anything before the alley? Not anything about your attacker or where you were going?"

"I'm trying. I'm trying hard."

He saw her cup was empty and took it from her. "Well, don't worry. As soon as my mother gets here, I'm going to go see what I can learn. Memory or no memory, I'll find the one who did this and I'll find out who you are too."

She had no doubt he'd try, but she knew he couldn't promise that for sure. Chauncey had worked his chair closer so that their knees were touching and he had set the cup and newspaper down to reach across to hold her hands in his. He was trying to warm them and to comfort her at the same time.

She jumped when the door opened without a knock, causing the sheriff to drop her hands. It was a tall man in black, who stared at them as if they were caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing.

"And just what on earth is going on here?" he demanded in a voice that made her jump again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chauncey stood and drew her up to her feet as well, so he could place her safely behind him. It didn't keep her from peeking over his shoulder to see what was happening.

The action had caused the man to drop the books in his hands, so he could point a gun at them, making Chauncey draw his as well.

When she clutched the sheriff's non-gun arm in a frightened manner and looked at him as if he were the intruder, Kid lowered his gun.

He knew there had to be an explanation as to why she was sitting so cozy with this man and he didn't think her guilty of any wrongdoing. He'd seen the shingle advertising sheriff, hence why he's busted into the room, intending to get the man's help to find her.

He didn't trust the sheriff now though. Not only because of the way he'd been looking at her before he had been noticed, but because he now acted as if he were holding her hostage. And why else wouldn't she have sent word that she was okay? "Ruth, are you alright?"

"You know this woman?" the sheriff asked, looking at him with pointed suspicion.

"Of course I know her, she's my wife." He put his gun away and took a step closer. "Ruth?"

She took a step back and she didn't move out from behind the sheriff, confirming something was terribly wrong.

"Have you any proof?" the sheriff asked, putting his gun away too.

"Ask any one of our 3 children. Ask her for heaven's sake."

She gasped. That seem like a lot of children to a woman who hadn't known she had any only moments before.

"She can't help you. She doesn't remember anything." He stooped to pick up the blanket that had dropped to the floor and put it back around the woman in question.

"What do you mean she don't remember?"

"I mean she doesn't remember, not you, not the children, not even herself. Her past is a complete blank."

She stared at the floor instead of looking at him giving credence to everything the sheriff said.

He hardly knew what to say to that information. "I thought they only made that stuff up for dime novels."

"So again I must ask you have you any proof? She was brutally attacked this evening and I'm not going to just turn her over to anybody."

Kid stepped closer and saw that what he thought were shadows was bruises and he saw the cuts as well. His blood boiled. "I'll kill him. Who did this to you?"

"She doesn't know," the sheriff repeated. "And your manner isn't helping."

Kid regretted his words even before the sheriff said anything. He hadn't meant he was literally going to kill him just beat him the way he had beat a defenseless woman, the woman he loved more than life itself. But he'd frightened her further because she had no way of knowing whether he meant the words or not because she didn't know him.

He did have proof. He went back over to the door to pick one of the Bibles up off the floor. Fortunately, the rain hadn't smudged the ink and he was able to turn to the family records. "Look, Ruth Ann McKenzie Cole. That's her. I'm Kenneth Lee Cole (Kid). These are our children's names."

The sheriff took the Bible from him. The names were there. "So you're Kid Cole?"

"And she's Sister Ruth. She had a revival in town today."

"I didn't go." He wasn't thinking of Sister Ruth being a revivalist. He was thinking of Kid Cole being a gunslinger. A man with a temper. A man who would beat his wife so that she lost her memory? It wouldn't have been the first case of domestic violence he'd ever seen.

Ruth had taken the Bible next. She had names and dates in front of her. Yet, she felt disconnected from the letters and numbers instead of having a blinding revelation as she might've hoped.

"Do you want to go with this man?" the sheriff asked her.

She closed the Bible and pressed it against her. This book at least felt true and natural, a part of her identity. "He is my husband, Chauncey."

Kid hated the way she used the sheriff's name so familiarly, but he was happy to hear her response.

"I have more questions for you, but I think they can wait until your wife's had a chance to get some rest. I'll have my eye on you and if you leave town before her attacker is found, you can bet your boots I'll follow," Chauncey warned, knowing he had no choice but to turn her over. "You can keep the blanket, Ms. Ruth."

"I wasn't planning on leaving town until he's found," Kid said. "I want him to pay for this even more than you do." He started to put his arm around Ruth but thought better of it. She was going to go with him, but she still looked a little scared.

"I hope you mean that. Where will you all be staying?"

"We'll be at San Miguel's. The priest there invited us to stay with him." He tried not to be offended by the relief that passed through Ruth. He picked up the other Bible and opened the door for her to go out.

She followed the man that was her husband out into the night through the town of Succoro, wondering all the while if she'd made a mistake. She'd seen Chauncey's distrust of him and he was so taciturn. Was he always like this or was he angry with her? What if Chauncey was right and he was the one who'd put these cuts and bruises on her?

But did she know Chauncey any better? She was really just exchanging one stranger for another. And 3 more little strangers waited for her at the church, strangers that called her mother.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as they stepped inside the church, an auburn-haired little girl threw herself around Ruth almost knocking her off balance.

"Mercy, child," Ruth said.

Kid smiled as she had unwittingly said her daughter's name. "Careful, Mercy. Your mother don't feel too good right now."

Mercy lightened her hold and said, "I was so worried, Momma."

"Aww, well, there's no reason to worry." She patted her head awkwardly, wishing she could take her own advice for she was extremely worried at the moment.

Mercy let go and stepped back. "I prayed though and just like you told me it's hard to worry while you're praying."

"That sounds like good advice. I'm glad you took it."

"Son, you going to come say hello to your momma?" Kid asked Isaiah, who sat on the floor with his ears covered.

"I knew she be okay," he said, not even looking up.

He grinned apologetically at Ruth. "That's our Isaiah."

They turned their attention on the pacing priest, who held a crying baby, the reason Isaiah was plugging his ears. The man came closer when he saw the reunion with the older children was over.

"Gideon's hungry," Kid explained to Ruth.

"Oh." The priest held the infant out to her and she suddenly realized what would be required of her to satisfy that hunger. "Oh."

She felt a tingling sensation that came from milk letting down as she took him from the priest. Her body seemed to know she was the child's mother even if she didn't.

"Do you need help?" Kid asked.

"I'm not stupid." She was feeling embarrassed by the whole situation and the last thing she wanted was help with something of so personal a nature.

"I didn't think you were." Quietly so that just the two of them could hear though Gideon's cries probably covered their voices well enough, he said, "I just wondered if you remembered how is all."

"It's not the hows I'm struggling with. It's the whos. Is there somewhere I can go?"

"Right. Uh, Padre?"

He knew what they were in need of before he asked. "I'll show you all to your room. I've already made myself a bed over in the corner."

Padre Andrés took them to a door hidden in the back of the sanctuary that opened to a large bedroom. "If either of you need anything, let me know. I am glad to see you are alright, my daughter."

"Thank you, Padre." She wondered if she should know him too as she watched his retreating form. He sparked no glimmer of memory, but then neither had Kid or the children.

She went into the room and Kid started to follow.

"Do you mind waiting until I'm finished feeding him?" she asked with flushed cheeks.

Kid flushed in return. "Of course, whatever makes you comfortable. I'll just go out and get the kids' bed things from the wagon."

"Thank you," she said, relieved he wasn't putting up an argument. This was going to make her uneasy enough without an audience.

She put the sheriff's blanket down and perched herself on the edge of the bed as soon as he was gone.

As she unbuttoned her blouse, a verse came to her mind. _"Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee."_

That was just what she had done forgotten her nursing child, she thought as her son latched on, knowing the routine better than her. She realized it meant more of a purposeful forgetting, but it still felt applicant. It was a verse that brought her comfort to think that the Lord knew and remembered everything about her even when she didn't remember herself.

She thought it rather strange she hadn't forgotten her faith when she'd forgotten everything else about herself. She couldn't say how, when, or where she'd come to know the Lord, but she knew she knew Him and she didn't feel alone as she could have right now. Her faith in God somehow went deeper than memories.

Gideon was all smiles after getting his milk and he quickly fell asleep in her arms. After buttoning her blouse back up, she opened the door to signal she was done.

Kid and Padre Andrés came in carrying a mattress that they laid on the floor. Mercy carried blankets and pillows. Isaiah brought up the rear carrying only his yellow blanket.

Kid went back out to the wagon to bring in more of their personal things. He got all three children settled for bed: Isaiah and Mercy on the mattress and Gideon in his guitar case.

Kid took off his shirt, preparing to get in bed himself, and a flustered Ruth looked away. "You need me to hold up a blanket while you get ready? I brought in your nightgown."

She needed a new dress on with her ripped sleeve, but she wasn't sure she wanted to wear a nightgown.

He noticed her hesitancy. "You still have doubts, don't you? That I'm your husband?"

"No, I believe you or I wouldn't be here, but-"

"You still don't feel at ease with me?"

"It's not your fault. I'm not at ease with anybody right now. Did you bring in a dress too?"

He lifted a blanket and pointed to the bag. He kept the blanket up and his eyes looking the other way until she was dressed.

Frown lines appeared when she came out fully dressed. She hadn't even let her hair down. He sighed but said very patiently, "I assume you'd rather not sleep in the same bed with me either?"

"If you don't mind. At least for tonight."

Kid got a short coughing spell. As soon as he was able, he cleared his throat and said, "The mattress on the floor is big enough for three. I'll sleep with the children."

"You have a cold. You should have the bed," she said, looking concerned for him.

He gave her a tender look. She might not remember who she was, but it was proof she was still the Ruth he knew, putting others before herself. "No, it's not a cold. I always have the cough. You take the bed."

"Well, at least put the girl up here with me."

"No, we'll be fine. Mercy thrashes around like a fish out of water while she sleeps and you need your rest."

He hoped her memory returned quick as he slid in between his sleeping son and daughter. It was no fun sleeping without your wife, but more than that he could see how much the memory loss was distressing her and that upset him in turn. And mostly he wanted her to remember so he could go after the cretin who was the cause of it all.


	5. Chapter 5

"Shh," Kid said softly to a loud Mercy. "Don't wake your mother."

"It's okay. I'm already awake," Ruth said.

"Can we go play, Daddy, until breakfast?" Mercy pleaded.

Kid opened the door to see if the priest was up too. "You can play in and around the wagon. Don't bother Padre Andrés though. It looks like he's in the middle of morning prayers."

Not that they would have probably. Mercy was too shy and Isaiah didn't have much use for strangers either. But they did get into their fair share of arguments as brothers and sisters were apt to do. They ran out, slamming the door behind them.

Alone except for a still sleeping Gideon, Kid said, "You didn't sleep well."

"Not too well, no."

"I would've sang for you if you'd've said something," he told her.

She looked at him as if he were half-baked.

"It seems to help you when I sing and play for you. The kids like it too."

"Oh, that's nice. I like music. At least, I'm pretty sure I do." She got out of bed even though right now it seemed the safest place to be. Already dressed, she only had to do her hair.

She found the brush among the things Kid had brought in the night before. When she lifted her arms to pull the pins out of her messy bun, she had to bring them quickly down again because the effort made her shoulders hurt.

He went over to her wordlessly and reached out to do it for her, but she flinched like she expected him to strike her, which pained him. "I only want to help you," he said softly like one might talk to a frightened doe or an injured bird.

She gave a slow nod and he pulled the pins out, letting her waist-length hair fall. He took the brush from her and she sat down on the bed. He got on his knees behind her and carefully brushed. Her hair was thick and very tangled, presumably from her encounter. "Let me know if I'm hurting you."

"I will." The brushing while innocent enough seemed so intimate, especially when his hand occasionally brushed against her neck as he moved her hair. It made her a little uncomfortable even though she knew he was her husband. So she distracted herself with conversation. "Kid. It's kind of an unusual name, ain't it?"

"It's not my given name, but it's the one I go by."

"How did we meet?"

"In a gunfight. Or after a gunfight I should say." It felt strange to him having to explain the things she should know to her, but he hoped by sharing, it would jog her memory.

"That sounds unorthodox. I wish I could remember. Are we going to tell the children, Isaiah and Mercy, right, about my trouble? They're bound to notice sometime, especially the oldest one."

"Let's give it a little bit. See what comes back. I don't want to worry them unnecessarily."

He ran his fingers instead of the brush through her hair and she fanned out her hands to have something else to concentrate on besides the warmth she was feeling. The lack of a wedding ring stuck out even though she knew not everyone had one. "Did I have a ring?"

"You did, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that you're alright. And who knows? Maybe we'll find it on him when we find him. Maybe it'll even help lead us to him."

She shuddered at being reminded that there was someone out there who was the source of all her pain. Because she now had a hard time believing a man being so kind to her could have had anything to do with the violence last night.

His hands moved to her shoulders. "It's okay. He's not going to hurt you again, I promise."

He finished brushing her hair, making an angry noise when he came across the knot on her head and the blood matted at the roots of her hair around it, but he couldn't have been more careful and tender with her.

"So the baby sleeps in a guitar case. Where does your guitar sleep?" she asked lightly when he was finished.

He took it as a good sign that she was joking and he jumped to show her the instrument. "Right here. You know you play too. You want to hold it?"

"Why not?' She took it into her lap. Her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, finding their way on the frets.

A knock interrupted before she could try strumming a chord. She turned too quickly at the sound and her hair got stuck between the guitar strings. "I'm caught in your guitar."

"Just a minute," Kid called out.

"Ow," she said as the heavy guitar moved lower down her lap, taking her hair with it.

"Keep still," he warned.

"Ouch, that hurts," she said as he pulled some of her hair free.

The door suddenly flew open "Get your hands off her!" the sheriff shouted.

Ruth jumped, freeing the rest of her hair. She never startled so easily before, Kid thought. But then it wasn't everyday a sheriff burst into your bedroom either.

"I-I thought," Chauncey said, sounding a trifle embarrassed, "well, never mind. I'm glad to see you're okay. I came to check up on you."

"That's really sweet," Ruth said, sounding pleased to see him.

Kid took the guitar from her and put it back against the wall, allowing him the opportunity to roll his eyes.

"Can I speak to you alone for a moment?" Chauncey asked her.

Kid whirled back around. "Anything you have to say to her, you can say to me."

"No, I don't mind," Ruth said, rising to her feet. Kid quickly pinned her hair back up for her. It didn't look much neater than it had before, but it was freshly brushed. "I'll tell you what we talked about afterward and we'll just be in the sanctuary."

Kid followed them there after picking up a now fully awake and crying Gideon, but he stayed near the priest while they moved to the other side.

"I don't trust that man," the sheriff said.

"He can seem a little daunting at first, but he's really as gentle as a lamb."

"And you learned that in the course of a few hours? Anybody can play nice when they got the law watching them. I wouldn't let my guard down. If you knew some of the stories I've heard about him. He kills people just because he don't like the looks of them."

"Hearsay. You don't know him. You just know stories about him."

"And you don't know him either. In every rumor, there's a grain of truth. He don't carry that gun around for show."

She looked back at said gun. Even from where they stood, they could both see the tic of his jaw.

"Well, he has an alibi in the priest, I'm sure. His daughter too probably or our daughter I should say."

"I talked with the priest. He dropped the kids off with him not long before he found us. That doesn't rule your husband out. And the children will lie if that's what their father told them to do. I'm worried for you."

"Don't be. He's treated me fine. Better than fine."

"Just promise me if you remember something or even think you remember something, you'll come to me first."

She was torn over which man to put her trust in. Maybe it was wise to go to the sheriff first. Gentle with her or not, Kid had stated his intent to kill her attacker. "Okay, I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

"Well, what'd he say?" Kid asked.

The sheriff had decided against talking to Kid afterward, considering the way Kid had been glowering at him.

"Not much. He ain't learned nothing new. Just warning me to be careful mostly."

"I don't trust him further than I can throw a grand piano," he said, glaring through the door as if he could see through it to the man they were talking about.

"Well, you're even then. Cause he don't trust you either."

His gaze softened as he concentrated on her. "What about you, Ruth? Do you trust me?"

She wanted to say yes. A part of her did say yes, but the other part said she couldn't be sure of anything. "I want to," she answered honestly.

He was disappointed but understanding. "I guess I can maybe understand that." He suddenly switched the subject. "You need a new dress."

"I've got this one until I get around to fixing the one from last night. And I'm sure I have a Sunday dress too."

"But it'll be hard to fix and it was getting worn anyway. Besides, you might associate it with unpleasantness once you do remember. No harm in getting one while we got the money for it."

"But don't you or the children need-"

"We're fine. You need to buy something for yourself for a change. Get your shoes on and I'll take you there. I think while you shop I'm going to have a talk to this Daniels fellow."

"Now don't go arguing with the man. He's just doing his job. Looking at all the possibilities."

"I want to make sure of it. If he gets fixated on me that means he ain't doing his job. I don't want to leave you alone for too long right now, so I need to be positive he's tracking the man down. Did you tell him about the ring?"

"I plumb forgot. Wouldn't know what it looked like either."

"That's another reason for me to talk to him. Come on, I'll help you with your shoes."

He put on her shoes for her, lacing and tying them. Her sore body was appreciative as both crouching or drawing her leg up would have been somewhat painful. She started to reach out and pat his shoulder in an affectionate manner but pulled her hand back at the last minute.

She fed the baby. Padre Andrés offered to watch the children again while he got breakfast together for all of them.

He took her by the elbow out on the street and she allowed it as it was just basic politeness. Why then was her heart racing at his touch?

"Sister Ruth," called a woman they passed by in greeting. Her friendly look changed into one of concern when she got closer to Ruth. "Why what happened to you? You look positively dreadful."

Kid did the speaking for her. "She'll be fine, but spread the word that there won't be a revival today. And no lady should be going anywhere unescorted. There's a reprobate on the loose."

"Oh, my. I'm sorry to hear that," the lady said. "Feel better."

"Well, that's one thing to cross off the list," Kid said when she was gone. He came to a stop in front of the store that was conveniently located across from the sheriff's office. "Pick out something pretty and I'll be talking with the sheriff right out on the street if you need me."

She hung at the doorway until Chauncey came out and they started talking. The men looked tense, but it didn't look as if there would be a fight mercifully.

The storekeeper took down the bolts she liked best and left her to decide on one alone due to a shelf falling in the storage room in back. She was drawn to the blues, but she saw a shade of peach that looked nice.

Before she could make up her mind, two giggling girls in their late teens or early 20s burst into the store but turned to the window instead of the items for sale.

"Do you see him? He's right there talking to Sheriff Daniels."

"Do I ever," the other said into her glove before releasing another giggle.

Ruth realized at once they were speaking of Kid.

"He's so handsome and dangerous. I wonder what it would be like to be his wife?"

"I wonder that too," Ruth muttered to herself.

They were two silly girls lusting after her husband and she didn't care to hear more, hadn't wanted to eavesdrop in the first place but it was too small a store to move from the conversation and the girls were too loud not to overhear. She started to make her presence known with a clearing of her throat, but then she heard her name.

"Did you get a look at that Sister Ruth? She's not even that pretty."

Ruth hadn't had an overinflated opinion of her looks, so it didn't bother her very much, but they weren't finished saying what was wrong with her and her relationship with Kid.

"What would a man like that see in her? They couldn't be more different, a quiet, melancholy gunfighter and a cheery, chatty evangelist? Not exactly a match made in heaven. What could they have in common?"

The sad part was that Ruth hadn't the slightest idea either though it did seem they might share a love of music and they unquestionably shared 3 children.

"I didn't even go to the revival. Perfectly vulgar, I hear."

"I went and I don't believe she has the power to faith heal people anymore than she can sing. Which she can't by the way. You should have heard Kid Cole sing though. I've never been more enthralled with a hymn."

Ruth couldn't have argued or answered them on any of those things either. What if she was a fraud? What if she didn't like who she turned out to be anymore than they did?

"He can sing a hymn to me any day."

So intent they'd been on conversing, they hadn't noticed his entering the store until he was in the doorway and they became flustered by his presence.

"Ladies," he said with a polite tip of his hat. He went to Ruth's side and the girls looked intensely embarrassed, noticing her there for the first time.

"Sorry," one of them mumbled.

"It's forgiven," Ruth responded though she was possibly as embarrassed as they were.

"What was that about?" Kid asked after the girls had scurried from the shop.

"The foolishness of youth."

"And you're ancient I suppose," he said with a grin.

"I don't know. How old am I?"

"36, which is just the right age in my book."

The shopkeeper returned and Ruth decided on the peach fabric after asking Kid which one he liked better.

She became rigid with discomfort when he slid his hand around her waist as they left, so he moved his hand back to her elbow.

"How'd your talk go?" she asked to fill the awkward silence and because she was curious.

"Pretty good. I think we understand each other now. The ring'll be a big help, he thinks. As soon as the rogue goes to sell it, he'll be caught if he ain't hightailed it out of here already that is."

sss

After a lunch that Ruth had felt well enough to fix, Kid had gone to speak with the doctor to see what the man could tell him about her condition. He was back now and watching Ruth play outside with the children from inside the church. Neither Mercy or Isaiah had picked up on anything being wrong with her yet.

Padre Andrés had been polishing the chalice. When he set the chalice and rag down, Kid asked, "Padre, are you busy?" He'd been looking to catch a word with the priest and friar since returning from the doctor and with Ruth outside, now was the perfect time.

"Not too busy for you. Are you seeking confession, son?"

"No," he answered right away. "At least not in the way that you mean. I don't need absolution, but I do need advice and a man of the cloth is about as good a place to get it as I can think of."

He pointed to a wooden chair, one of only 2 in the room. "Sit down."

"I'm worried about my wife," Kid began when they were seated. "She don't remember who she is and she's really vulnerable right now. And I believe there's somebody taking advantage of that."

"Sheriff Daniels?"

"Right. I think she trusts him more than she trusts me. She said they didn't talk about much, but I don't know. There's something I don't like about the man. I think he knows more than he lets on and why is he so eager to pin the violence that happened to her on me?"

He folded his hands in a contemplative way. "I couldn't say, but he did rescue her. I'm sure that counts for a lot in her eyes."

"And I am grateful for that, but I think she was starting to open up to me just a little bit and then he came along and I don't know."

The priest took in Kid's glum expression. "Is there more?"

"I saw the doctor today. He said there's a possibility of her memory never coming back. That means her attacker might go free and even worse she may never remember me or the children."

"That would be bad news. But the Lord will repay this man of violence if he should escape earthly justice. And is the past so important when there's the present and a future to look forward to? If she has her faith and it seems she does since she prayed before breakfast and lunch, all will be well."

"I hear you, but I can't stand thinking about him doing to some other woman what he did to Ruth. And I'm not sure we can have a future together until she remembers the past."

"You thought about taking her out, so she can get to know you again? To rebuild the love and trust."

"You mean like court her?"

"Wouldn't be able to advise you much on how to go about that, but yes. Court her. I enjoy watching your children."

"Well, it's worth a shot." He looked through the window where she was smiling freely with the kids as she pulled the string to Isaiah's jumping-jack. From the way both Mercy and Isaiah laughed she was doing a funny voice with it like she liked to do. She was worth every effort courtship took. He'd start over romantically with her 100 times if need be.


	7. Chapter 7

"Will you go on a picnic with me tomorrow?" Kid asked as soon as he got Ruth alone.

"You mean just the 2 of us?" It was plain to see the thought of them being alone unsettled her, but when his hope disappeared and he looked like a little boy who'd just been told there'd be no Christmas, her heart went out to him. "I reckon that's not a terrible idea."

He snatched up her hands excitedly. "You'll have fun, you'll see. I'll plan the whole thing. You won't have to lift a finger."

sss

She slept better, making up for the previous night. He was eager to go when she finally did rise, having already taken care of Isaiah and Mercy's breakfast.

He'd searched out the most beautiful spot he could find in the area in the wee hours of the morning and it was beautiful. There was a shimmering lake surrounded by grass more golden than green being they were in desert country, but it was still very pretty. A few surrounding trees and the mountains in the distance enhanced the scenicness of the spot.

"Not too bad, huh?" he asked.

"It's wonderful."

"It pays to ask the locals and looks like we got the area to ourselves for now. I paid the owner of that there boat to let us use it. What do you say we take it out?" He set the basket and guitar he carried on the grass.

"We do this a lot?" she asked as he helped her into the bobbing watercraft.

"You ain't fond of fording water or ocean or river voyages, but you don't seem to mind canoes and rowboats. But to answer your question. No, we don't get to do these things as often as I'd like. Our free time's mostly in the winter."

He climbed in with her and awkwardly rowed them away from the shore. "I don't paddle too good," he said with an apologetic grin.

"Well, now's a great time to tell me."

"You might not've gone out with me if I'd've told you before." He didn't seem to be exaggerating his lack of skill either as the boat was going around in circles.

"I hope you can get us back to land." There was a playful tease in her voice, but there was a hint of nervousness too.

He drew the oars up and into the boat with him. "I might be able to if the inclination hits me."

There was something about sitting out in the middle of the lake that made a couple feel like the only 2 people in the world.

She didn't know what he expected them to do, so she quickly dove headlong into conversation.

Kid couldn't help smiling. For a woman who only remembered 2 days of her entire life, she had a remarkably easy time coming up with things to talk about from how much she liked the children to the birds she saw in the distance.

"I'm boring you, ain't I?" she asked when she noticed he didn't seemed to be concentrated on what he was saying.

"No, I like to watch you talk," he said affectionately.

That flustered her because she didn't think it was just a slip of the tongue if his intense gaze was any sign. He wasn't listening to her as much as he was enjoying looking at her.

"I'm starving. What do you say if we eat?"

He looked a little disappointed, but he didn't lose his smile as he dipped the oars back in the water. It took some finagling, but he got them back to dry land. He got out first, so he could help her out, but she still managed to fall against him.

"Guess I ain't got my land legs back," she said with a laugh at herself.

He didn't lose his balance; he stayed as steady as an oak tree. She pulled back slightly but didn't pull her hands from him right away. His large, calloused hand engulfed hers and made her feel safe somehow. She couldn't imagine him using those hands for violence in that moment.

"What all did you pack? Something sweet I hope."

He took the hint and dropped her hands in order to pick up the picnic things. He spread a blanket out under the shade of a tree first and then handed her a bouquet of yellow desert primroses.

"That's sweet." She brought them to her nose. They smelled like spring and rain, pleasant without being overpowering. She sat down and laid them in the middle of the blanket.

Ruth asked a quick blessing before he began pulling out food from the basket. The basket had meat pies, butter cookies, and cider. He admitted he'd gone to a lady in town who sold baked goods to make ends meet.

"I didn't think you'd baked all this yourself."

"A memory?" he asked hopefully.

"Naw, just a good feeling," she said with a chuckle.

"It's not the hard stuff," he promised as he handed her a cup for she'd looked a little leery of the contents. "Made from some kind of desert fruit. No apple orchards out here yet, I don't reckon."

She took a sip. "Interesting." She set it down to get to work on the pie. She wasn't halfway finished with it when she asked, "Will you answer me something honestly? Can I really heal people?"

He looked surprised by the question and quickly swallowed. "Of course you can. God's given you a great gift. It's Him doing the work, but it's you that helps them believe what faith in Jesus Christ can do. Why you're so full of faith that I think it can't help overflowing to other people. I know it's what drew me to God."

"So I'm not a bad person?"

"Who told you that you were?"

"Nobody. Not directly anyway. I just overheard some conversation."

"Listen to me, Ruth McKenzie Cole. You are the best woman I've ever known. No one else even comes close."

He spoke so passionately. It was more than sweet nothings; he believed what he said. He was either telling the truth or blinded by loved. Maybe a little of both.

Eager to switch the topic from herself and wanting to know more of their history together, she said, "You told me how we met. When did we know we loved each other?"

"Not right away. There were times you annoyed me and I know there were times I annoyed you. But we found our way to each other despite our mutual stubbornness."

"So we're not stubborn anymore?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that, but now that we're pulling in the same harness instead of pulling opposite ways, things work a lot better."

"And our first kiss? I want to know details. Maybe it'll help me remember."

"You ain't making this easy." It wasn't the most romantic first kiss story. He didn't want her thinking ill of him before she really knew him.

"Please, tell me. Don't hold anything back."

"It was in a barn. I'd had a little too much to drink and you were treating me because I'd hit my head and it just kind of happened. I knew I loved you and wanted you as my wife, but you didn't think I could change on my willpower alone and you were looking to stay single." Ruth didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. "I can see what you're thinking and I don't drink anymore."

She had been wondering about that. Men would do while they were drunk what they'd never do sober.

Maybe because he was afraid of another conversation heading south or just tired of talking, he pulled out his guitar.

"Will you come to the Bow'r I've shaded for you?  
Your bed shall be flow'rs all spangled with dew.  
Will you come to the Bow'r I've shaded for you?  
Your bed shall be flow'rs all spangled with dew.

"Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?  
Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?"

He did have a nice voice. The kind of voice that could make a woman, old or young, melt. Especially when he seemed to mean the words he was singing.

"There under the Bow'r on roses you lie  
With a blush in your cheek and a smile in your eye.  
There under the Bow'r on roses you lie  
With a blush in your cheek and a smile in your eye.

"Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?  
Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?"

His eyes shone dark like agates, promising to solve any mysteries and to hold all the answers to her identity. Promising to love her.

"But the roses we press shall not rival your lip  
Nor the dew be so sweet as the kisses we sip.  
But the roses we press shall not rival your lip  
Nor the dew be so sweet as the kisses we sip.

"Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?  
Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?"

The mention of sipping kisses had her flushed. He looked at her as if he adored her. She would be lying if she said that the adoration didn't scare her a tiny bit even if she felt flattered by it too.

"And Oh for the Joys that are sweeter than dew  
From languishing roses and kisses from you.  
And Oh for the Joys that are sweeter than dew  
From languishing roses and kisses from you.

"Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?  
Will you, will you, will you, will you come to the Bow'r?"

But what scared her more than his feelings for her was her feelings for him. Because she could fall for this man hard. Obviously already had sometime in the past. She wanted to answer his question with a resounding yes.

She hadn't touched the cookies yet. He broke a piece off and brought it to her lips, dusting the crumbs that collected on and around her bottom lip in a sensual way.

While he fed her, Kid's other hand wasn't idle. His thumb caressed the back of her hand that rested by her side. The cider might not have been hard cider, but she felt just a little drunk then. And she didn't turn from him as his lips brushed lightly and carefully against hers.

But rather than lifting her higher as she was expecting, she could feel icy fingers on her throat, a suffocating sensation, and hard, crashing lips.

She jerked away and backed up until the bark of the desert willow tree was digging into her back.

He looked hurt and confused until he realized where it must have stemmed from. "You remembered something."

Had she? She supposed she had even if they'd been feelings more than anything tangible. It hadn't been a kiss from their shared past; she was sure of that. The lips hadn't felt the same. "No." Had it been more than just a kiss? What would her husband think if the attack was worse than either of them had realized. If her very virtue had been compromised. Would she fall off the imaginary pedestal he had placed her on?

"Now who's not being truthful," he said in a low, accusatory voice.

"Nothing that matters. I need time to pull the fact from fiction. Can we go back?"

"Of course." He forced a smile. It wasn't the way he'd hoped for the picnic to end, but Ruth's comfort was his primary concern and doing as she asked would help her know that she could trust him.


	8. Chapter 8

Ruth stared out the small window of the church, wondering whether she should reveal the sliver of remembrance to the sheriff. It wouldn't tell him anything about the attacker, but it would clear Kid's name and he did say he wanted to know everything she remembered.

She turned around to where Kid was changing Gideon into a fresh gown, one without spit-up on it. "I need to see Chauncey."

A temporary moment of confusion as he looked up at her and then jealousy. "Why?"

"I need to talk with him. Assure him it wasn't you."

"So I was right. You did remember something back there." He sounded annoyed and wounded as he said, "You can tell him about it, but you can't tell me?"

"It's not like that. It's just he's the one looking into it and he can be more rational about it. He's not as involved." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

And he tried. He agreed to take her to see him. So leaving the children with the priest once more, they set off.

Kid had to go into the saloon to get Sheriff Daniels. He was glad to see that at least it appeared he was checking out other angles as he was talking with some of the men instead of drinking. Ruth waited in the doorway, visible but not in the mix. She held her Bible against her chest as if it could serve to protect her.

The sheriff suggested he and Ruth go into the alley for their private talk when he came out with Kid, the place where it had all began. Kid waited at the opening, watching them if not hearing them.

"It wasn't him. It wasn't Kid," she began.

"How can you be sure?"

"Besides the gut feeling I have about him, I had a glimpse of memory. I think the attacker forced a kiss on me and the kiss didn't feel like Kid's."

The sheriff turned red, not wanting to press for details about how she could know that for sure. He took her at her word. The odd thing was though he didn't seem all that surprised and maybe even just a mite disappointed. "Well, I'm happy to hear that for your sake even if it makes my job harder." There was a long pause. "This attacker violated you then?"

It was Ruth's turn to blush. "I don't know. I don't remember. I pray not." She wondered if she was better off not remembering, but the wondering didn't seem like a good alternative either.

"Tell me right away if you remember anything else. Tell me first before you tell anybody else. Things have to be done in a lawful way and gunfighters like him don't care much for the law."

She nodded because she wanted things done lawfully, but it didn't feel right keeping things from Kid. She thanked Chauncey and returned to Kid, where they proceeded to walk back to the church. He was noticeably silent.

"You're angry," she remarked.

"No. At least not with you. With this situation. I just wish you felt like you could tell me everything, anything. I'm not an outlaw whatever the sheriff's telling you."

"Do you love me?"

He stopped and looked at her, surprised. "Of course I love you. Why would you ask that?"

"People don't always marry for love or they fall out of love. I just wondered if we did is all." She'd wanted to hear him say he loved her out loud. She thought she might love him too, but she didn't have the memories to back that up, just her feelings, feelings that were getting stronger. "Would you love me if I never remembered who I am, was? If things for whatever reason weren't quite the same as before?"

"But you are still you and that won't change. And my love for you won't either."

He wasn't just saying what she wanted to hear. The intensity behind the words frightened her as much as it flattered her too. She took up walking again and he matched his step with hers to stay at her side.

Mercy had missed their brief return before, so involved she'd been in reading a book. She greeted them this time. "Did you have fun on the picnic? Did you get to go swimming?"

"No, but that's a good idea," Kid said. "We'll take you and your brothers swimming next time we go on one."

"I want to go tomorrow," Mercy declared.

Kid looked over at his wife. "What do you say, Ruth? How does tomorrow sound?"

She smiled. The girl looked too eager to turn down. "I think that sounds fine."

So the next day, they went back to the very same lake with the children this time.

Kid got in the water and so did Mercy, who turned out to be a right good, little swimmer for her age. Ruth was happy just to let her feet hang over in the water because she really didn't feel like getting all the way in the cold water and someone had to stay on the bank with Isaiah and Gideon.

Kid came up to her after swimming around a little while with Mercy and placed his hands on her bare thighs. She had worn her bathing dress and had rolled up the skirt to better let her legs kick in the water. She graced him with a smile even though all she could think about was the placement of his hands. He smiled back and said sultrily, "I wish you could come in with us."

"I'm enjoying watching you and Mercy play."

"Let me know if you want to switch places for awhile."

She swallowed thickly and nodded. Relieved and disappointed when he took his hands away and swam back to where Mercy was.

And she really did enjoy watching them. Isaiah kept himself occupied with pulling up grass. Gideon seemed content to babble on his blanket. It was turning out to be a nice outing.

Ruth was startled when Mercy cried out. Tearfully, she told her father, "I stepped on something and it hurts."

He had her scooped up, carried out of the water and sitting on the grass before Ruth could even pull her feet out of the water. He looked at the heel of Mercy's foot. It was a little red, but there was no cut.

"You must've walked on a sharp stone. I think you'll live." He got back in the water. "With you down and out though, I'll finally be able to win a race."

She jumped up, forgetting all about her hurt. "Uh-uh. I'm going to win," she spouted back as she got straight into the water.

He was so good with the kids, playful and gentle, knowing just what to do when a problem popped up. It was easy to see he loved them a lot. That was when she knew for sure she loved this man she should have known.

When Mercy floated her way a little later, looking so serene, she couldn't resist reaching out and splashing her.

She giggled and splashed back. Soon all 3 of them: Kid, Ruth, and Mercy were engaged in a splash battle of epic proportions.

Isaiah had crept up behind her, watching but not joining in. Ruth reached in as if she were about to splash Mercy again, but quickly turned her hand so that the water landed on Isaiah instead.

The boy let out a screech as if the water burned and went running away from her. Kid hopped out to make sure he didn't get too far, but Isaiah had thrown himself against the ground by then.

"Momma, why'd you do that?" Mercy asked. "You know Isaiah hates water." That never kept her from splashing him, of course, on occasion, but she was his sister; it was her birthright. Mothers didn't purposely annoy their children.

"I forgot," she said, watching the screeching child with concern.

"Forgot? He screams and fights like he's dying every bath night."

Ruth got up and walked off, not running but setting a brisk pace.

Kid threw his jacket on to fight the coolness of the air made cooler from the swim.

"What's wrong with Momma?" Mercy asked with wide eyes.

"Nothing's wrong." He held out his hand to help her out of the water. He moved Gideon and his blanket further from the lake. "Watch your brothers until we get back and don't go near the water much less in it." There was no danger where the boys were concerned. Gideon couldn't crawl yet and Isaiah hated water, but he didn't want Mercy to think she could swim without them there.

Ruth wasn't far off at all. She stood looking at the mountains and hugging a tree. She heard him before she saw him. "I know I'm not being a good wife to you or a good mother to the kids and I'm not sure I know how to be." She let go of the tree and turned towards him. "Look at the way I've upset your son."

He tipped his hand under her chin and raised it so that she was looking at him instead of the ground. "Our son. And he'll be okay. He's not hurt. We'll all be okay. You'll see and you'll get to know us again with time."

She looked downward again. She felt so guilty for not knowing her family. Like she had a choice in the matter. On some level she knew she didn't, but she couldn't help wondering if not remembering made her a bad person.

As if he could read her thoughts, he suddenly enveloped her in a warm albeit wet hug.

She gripped his lapels and rested her head against him. His jacket smelled like soap and wood smoke, an oddly comforting and intoxicating combination. She didn't care what the sheriff said. Something about this man gave her complete confidence in him despite the doubts raised by Chauncey and her own doubts. "He kissed me."

He didn't know what she was talking about at first. "The sheriff?"

"No. Whoever my attacker was. At least I think it was him I was recalling. Just a kiss as far as I know, but I still don't remember his face or what all happened."

It pained him the way she looked up at him, fearing he would blame her for it. He hugged her tighter and spoke comfortingly even as he seethed on the inside. "You did nothing. It wasn't your fault." Was there no end to the things this unnamed man had stolen from her: her memories, her ring, her fearlessness, maybe her honor? Sheriff Daniels had better find him first because if Kid did, he might just kill him after all.


	9. Chapter 9

The priest's little bedroom was in the chaos that came with Sunday mornings. Kid and Ruth tried to get themselves ready while they simultaneously helped ready their children. Mercy needed buttoning, Isaiah didn't want to wear his Sunday clothes, Gideon had a blow out that required a whole new change in wardrobe, his and Kid's.

And Mercy cheerfully sang in the midst of it all to the grumpy Isaiah, trying to get a smile out of him while he kept shrugging off his sister's arm that kept finding itself around his shoulders.

"O, who will drive the chariot  
When she comes?  
O, who will drive the chariot  
When she comes?  
O, who will drive the chariot,  
O, who will drive the chariot,  
O, who will drive the chariot  
When she comes?"

Ruth wondered with a wry bit of amusement if she'd been the one to teach her daughter to sing. She sang just slightly off key and with a heavy twang that was just a tiny bit thicker than when she talked.

"King Jesus, He'll be driver when she comes,  
When she comes  
King Jesus, He'll be driver when she comes  
When she comes  
O, King Jesus, He'll be driver when she comes  
O, King Jesus, He'll be driver when she comes  
O, King Jesus, He'll be driver when she comes  
When she comes."

They were lovable children, but she was starting to develop a headache by about this point. She could still heartily feel where she'd hit her head and the place was beginning to throb.

"Mercy, honey, can you save your singing for another time?" Kid asked. "Now's not the best time."

She hadn't sent up a word of complaint, but he must have read it in her expression. Which meant, they really had to have been married a long time for him to be so sensitive to her nonverbal cues. She envied that closeness he shared with her past self, which might have been an odd thing to envy, but she wished to be able to read him as fine or to even know herself half as well as he seemed to.

Mercy listened to her father right away though her feelings looked a little hurt. Ruth vowed she'd ask her to sing something after church when her head hurt less.

Isaiah, on the other hand, was still yelling shut up to Mercy though she'd stopped singing. Kid pulled his son up into the air so that they were eye level. "Stop it."

He did stop, but his face stayed pouty.

Miraculously, they weren't late to the church service that was just on the other side of the door.

There were no pews in the sanctuary. The people stood through the service except for when they knelt.

She had no idea what to do during any of it. When to kneel, when to cross herself, when to say whatever had to be said. And the priest's words gave no hints for none of them were in English. To her relief, it didn't seem her family knew what to do either. Neither did they go forward for the Eucharist. They obviously weren't Catholic.

She'd have to remember to ask Kid what they were, not that it concerned her overly much. It was only curiosity for she knew it was about having Jesus Christ in your heart and not the name attached to the church that made the difference.

Still, she thought as she lowered herself to her knees once more on the hard dirt floor (almost tempted to use her Bible as a pillow), at the moment she was rather glad they weren't Catholic.

sss

Ruth sat by the window working on the hem of her new skirt the following day. Kid had taken the children out for awhile. He said it was to work out their energy, but she a feeling it was more to keep her from feeling so overwhelmed by a family life she was still trying to figure out.

"You're unusually quiet, Sister Ruth," the priest observed. The last 2 times she had sewn in the sanctuary, she had talked all the while she worked, asking him questions about his life and faith.

"Just thinking. It could have been worse, my attack. I could've lost my life or broken a bone. Though a broken bone might have been easier to deal with in some ways. In a lot of ways."

"Have faith, child. Things always play out the way they do for a reason and salvation can come at the unlikeliest of times in the unlikeliest of ways. One of my favorite stories is a story in our church's history. The Apache raided this village a long time ago and when it looked as if all was lost, the angel, Miguel, appeared and scared them off. That is how the church got its name, San Miguel."

"What an interesting story."

"But you don't believe," he said with a kind smile.

"I don't know. I wasn't there. But I believe in angels and miracles. I suppose I have to as a faith healer, but I'm not sure the angel should have gotten the honor. It was God who sent the angel. Why give the glory to the servant, who's simply obeying the command of the Master?"

"It could be viewed that way. It could also be viewed as a reminder that God sends ministering spirits at the proper time."

"I reckon it could at that. Maybe a ministering spirit will come with my memories," she said half-joking.

"I will pray that one does," he said seriously as if he believed the winged being would come flying down from heaven with her memories in a sack.

And Ruth sincerely wished one would. But she knew she would have to resume her life soon whether one did or didn't.

sss

Chauncey Daniels was as silent as he could manage until he reached the bedroom. He pulled open the drawer and found it.

He picked up a silver ring with engraved Celtic knots running around the band just exactly as Kid had described to him. An old piece of jewelry though well cared for. The silver would pick up a fair price with the right buyer.

He closed the drawer and slipped the ring in his pocket. He went back out to the living room where his mother and brother sat arguing about whether a Mormon could ever be president. Unlike most ladies, his mother was adamantly interested in politics.

"Too radical," his brother agreed. "People don't want a theocracy, especially one rooted in a crazy religion like that."

How could he sit there like there was nothing wrong, Chauncey wondered, like he bore no guilt. "Edmond, can I see you a minute? Alone?"

"Why not? Though I'm sure you can say whatever you have to say in front of Mother."

"I'm sure I can't," he said, pointing towards the door.

His brother got up and followed his finger to the kitchen, wearing a bemused expression.

"It was you," Chauncey said as soon as the door was closed.

"It was me what?" he asked, still smiling like it was some big joke.

He pulled the ring out. "You attacked Sister Ruth Cole."

Edmond tried to snatch it from him, but he closed his fist tight. "What in heaven's name were you thinking?"

"Hey, believe you me if I'd have known she was Kid Cole's old lady, I wouldn't have looked at her twice. I didn't think nice ladies hung out around the saloon. It was a lucky break her losing her memory like that though. The whole town's in a buzz about it and no one suspects me. Well, except for you, I suppose."

"Sometimes I can't believe you're my brother."

He smiled. "Every family's got their black sheep. Tell Mother not to wait up."

Off to the saloon, not even caring he'd been found out. Chauncey had wanted it to be anybody else, but it wasn't. It was as he'd feared and suspected all along. And he just let him walk out of the house when he would have arrested any other man because he was his brother.


	10. Chapter 10

Ruth stood in front of the mirror. Her Bible was open to a random place. "Repent," she said to her reflection.

What else did ministers say, she wondered. Some of the church people had asked her when she was going too hold another meeting and she hadn't been able to give an answer.

She wasn't even about to attempt a faith healing. Although, she could certainly use one. Maybe, if she believed hard enough, her memory would come back. But what if she didn't do it right? And she'd never heard of someone faith healing themselves before.

Maybe she should just sing, she reasoned at last. Singing sounded easier than preaching. So she started up a chorus of amens. And her hands moved in rhythm with the words. As she closed her eyes and concentrated on praising the Lord, she could felt like herself. Like Sister Ruth.

"What are you doing, Momma?" Mercy asked with a giggle, breaking in on her solitude.

Face burning at being caught in front of the mirror, her Bible clapped shut. "Practicing. For when we start up this revival business again." Lightheartedly, she asked, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about preaching, would you?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "You said it's the job of all believers to preach the good news."

"I reckon that's so, ain't it?" she said, giving the girl a smile.

"And we all have different ways of doing it," she said, sounding proud she'd remembered that part of it too.

"And what's my way?" she asked.

"You talk." Then as an afterthought, she added, "And you sing."

"But mostly I talk," she said, sounding amused at the implication.

"Will you play dolls with me?"

"Sure. I guess so." She sat down on the bed while Mercy ran to get them.

Mercy brought back 2 dolls, a cornhusk doll in buckskins and a fancier doll with blonde hair and blue eyes. She gave her mother the cornhusk one. Then laid the store-bought one on the bed. "Pretend my doll's sleeping and you're trying to get her up."

Ruth smoothed the russet-colored hair on the cornhusk doll. "Okay. What's her name?"

"You know her name," Mercy said, thinking she was only joking.

"Pretend I didn't."

Mercy recognized then the seriousness behind the request and she picked her doll back up. "It's Elizabet, Momma. Why are you forgetting stuff about me and Isaiah? Is 3 too many kids to keep up with?"

Ruth didn't see a way around her questions that wouldn't make Mercy think she didn't care about them, so she decided to be honest. She patted the spot beside her and hoped Kid would understand why she had to tell her. "I can't remember things. About me. About you. About everybody. In fact, I can only remember the past few days. It ain't anything to worry about though. I'm still your momma and I always will be."

Her face was wrinkled with confusion. "When will you remember again?"

"Only God knows. You know I still love you, don't you?" It was absolutely true and not a lie told to spare her feelings. Mercy was a sensitive and gentle-natured child, who she was proud to call her own. And she loved the stubborn, aloof Isaiah. And she also loved the cuddly, constantly babbling Gideon. She had fallen for the whole family. A true blessing. But then love like faith was one of those things that went deeper than memory. She supposed she really never really had stopped loving them.

"I know, Momma," she said, leaning against her. Ruth put her arms around her and hugged her.

Shouting could suddenly be heard outside the church. It caused Gideon to wake up and use his amazing lung power to let everyone know he didn't like it.

Ruth picked him up and though his crying didn't go away immediately they did quiet down to mere whimpers.

An argument was going on between Kid and Sheriff Daniels. Ruth went out to put a stop to it while Mercy stayed inside with Isaiah, not wanting any part of it.

"So what you're saying is you're giving up!" Kid was yelling.

"No. I'm working on it. I just don't want you folks to feel like you have to stay if you'd rather move on."

She spoke to Kid before he could raise his voice again as he'd been fixing to do. "Quit your hollering at the man. It's childish and you woke the baby up. I'm sure he's doing his very best." Turning to the sheriff, she said, "Brother Chauncey, you'll understand if we want to see this through. It's tempting to leave, I admit, but if I remember and am able to identify the man, that's the best chance we got of finding him and preventing any future evils."

He nodded and tipped his hat before leaving. He looked tired and as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He must have been working hard trying to solve it. She'd have to remember to bake some cookies to show her appreciation.

Kid, meanwhile, was grinning broadly even though she'd fussed at him. She was returning to her normal bossy self, which he knew meant she was becoming more comfortable with him and the children. He also liked how she had placed brother in front of Chauncey's name. That was also very like herself. He hoped that meant she was on the verge of recovering her memories.

sss

Ruth came out from behind the makeshift screen in her nightdress and with her hair hanging in a braid. Kid noticed the change right away.

"Got tired of sleeping in your clothes?" he asked.

"All that ironing was getting to be a pain and I realize it's not like it ain't modest."

She was right. It covered everything. It was only enticing because of the knowledge that there were no corsets or any other underneath things under it. He also liked how the blue forget-me-nots embroidered on the gown brought out her eyes. He gave a wry sort of smile as he realized the irony of the flower choice.

He could have kept staring at her, but he didn't want to embarrass her and make her regret her decision to wear it, so he started to crawl between the already sleeping children.

"You and the kids always look awful cramped down there when this bed's big enough for two."

"You sure?" he asked, straightening back up.

"We're married and it's just sleeping beside each other. I can handle that." Why then was she was more jittery than a new bride?

She climbed in first. It was roomy enough for two, but the two had to sleep pretty closely. Her leg accidentally brushed against his because of it and the feelings it elicited in her embarrassed her. She was trying hard not to look in his direction at his bare chest. Fortunately, the sheet on the bed partially covered it.

What she needed was a distraction and she hadn't gotten a chance to tell him what had happened earlier. "Mercy knows I can't remember. Her dolls gave me away when I didn't know their names."

"How'd she take it?"

"Pretty well. I don't think she fully understands it, but then I'm not sure I do either."

"That makes 3 of us, but we'll figure it out together." His hand sought hers underneath the cover. Surprisingly, his touch didn't make her nervous this time. Actually, it seemed to calm her. "You should get some sleep."

Though she went to sleep fairly quickly, she didn't stay that way. She heard the sound of her sleeve ripping. She couldn't see much because it was so dark, but she could almost make out his face. Mostly it was the feelings she could remember: the fear, the panic, the anger, the exploding pain as her head made contact with the wall.

She shot up in bed in the present, breathing hard. She knew instinctively that the nightmare had its basis in reality. It was like the memory lay just behind a veil. So close but out of her reach too.

She startled when she noticed Kid watching her with concern. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry," she said.

"I wish you would stop apologizing. Did you remember anything?"

"Bits and pieces. Nothing solid yet."

"At least, it seems you will remember with time. That's good news. Though I bet it's going to be hard for you to get back to sleep, ain't it?"

"Probably so."

He opened his arms and she slid back into his protective embrace, no longer caring about his lack of a shirt because she needed the comfort she knew she could draw from him. And she prayed. Prayed that she would remember the good memories and have the strength to accept the bad ones.


	11. Chapter 11

Kid was walking the floors with Gideon. He'd been fed already this morning, but he was still fussy.

Ruth suspected he probably had a tooth coming in as his gums had looked a little swollen. It couldn't feel good to have a sharp, little tooth slicing through your unbroken gum. She prayed for the tooth to come through as quickly and painlessly as possible.

An idea suddenly came to her. A picture formed in her mind of a baby chewing on a cold, wet rag. Was it a memory of Mercy or Isaiah? She hardly had time to think about it as she moved into action and dug through her bag for a clean handkerchief then dipped it in the bowl of water, still chilled from the night air. She gave it to Kid, who gave it to Gideon, who quieted.

Maybe she wasn't totally useless as a mother after all. She sat back on the bed, feeling pleased with this small victory.

The mattress bounced as Mercy joined her there, asking, "Do you remember yet, Momma?"

Mercy had dressed herself, but her hair was a mess. Ruth reached out to smooth it some though what she needed was a brush. "No, sweetheart, not yet."

She looked disappointed.

"Don't go pestering your momma now," Kid said, putting Gideon down in his guitar case/crib to chew as he looked ready to nod off. He'd gotten about as much sleep as he and Ruth had, which was practically none.

There was a knock at the door. They were all fully dressed, so Kid opened the door for Padre Andrés.

"Good morning," the priest said, greeting the family with a smile. "It's the day of the Holy Cross."

Ruth looked at Kid, wondering if she was supposed to know that. She knew when and what Christmas and Easter was, but this holiday escaped her. He shrugged to show he didn't know what it meant either.

Padre Andrés explained to them. "It is sort of a May Day, but with more of a Christian theme. The town decorates a cross and then there's a Mass and food later on. I think your children will enjoy it very much."

Ruth hid a yawn behind her hand. The thought of fielding all the questions she knew she would hear from the well-meaning people during the festivities made her feel even more tired.

Mercy looked up at her father hopefully.

Kid looked out the window. The pressing crowd already gathering held no appeal for him and he could see Ruth looked plumb tuckered out. "Your mother's tired and Gideon's just got settled. Maybe later on."

"I could take the older children with me," Padre Andrés offered. "You can even see the celebration from the window if you want to watch."

Ruth smiled. "That's very generous of you."

"I reckon that'd be alright." He only hesitated because he never knew when Isaiah was going to take one of his spells, especially in a crowd, but if anything went wrong, Mercy could get them quick enough if it was right out in front of the church.

"Ready, children?" Padre Andrés asked.

"Yeah!" Mercy said with excitement. Isaiah went over to stand beside her.

Kid cleared his throat meaningfully.

"I mean yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Mercy corrected.

They were off after Ruth took a brush to both children's hair. The door was closed behind them and she got back in bed.

Kid got back in bed too, leaning against the headboard and relishing the peace and quiet.

Ruth rested to until she heard the laughs and chatter. She got up and went over to look out the window. It was a tall, plain wooden cross they were decorating, but the children were working hard on to change that.

"Mercy's getting to twist one of the ribbons around," she said to Kid. Their children were easy to spot from this distance as they were the only ones with light hair among a sea of dark-haired children. "I can tell the flowers and ribbons look beautiful from here. After we've gotten some rest, we ought to go have a look at it."

He'd joined her to see their daughter decorating and stood directly behind her.

When that part of the revelry was over and Mercy was standing beside the priest and her brother again, he cautiously put his hands on her shoulders, wanting to touch her but not sure if he should. She leaned back against him to show it was alright and he wrapped his arms around her and softly kissed the top of her head.

She suddenly wasn't quite as tired anymore. Warm feelings were traveling through her and she turned around. She wanted to kiss him, so she stood on tiptoe and tilted her face upward.

"You don't have to do this until you want to," he said, remembering how much his kiss had troubled her before.

"I want to," she said, giving his chin an affectionate peck.

He lowered his head and turned slightly to the side, but he went slowly and only kissed the corner of her lip then pulled back slightly. Her eyes were still closed and her arm moved up around his shoulders, so he aimed for her lips this time after taking her other hand in his and drawing it against his chest.

She made her mind focus on the fact that it was Kid and that she was safe and loved with him. The handhold was sweet and it helped immensely because it was what lovers did, not people intent on violence or even just passion.

The kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, but no bad memories had risen to the surface. Of course no good ones had either, but she'd liked it. It felt right and nice. She drug the back of her hand across his jaw line and smiled at him.

He smiled back, but his voice was noticeably ragged as he said, "You're tempting me to do what I know you're not ready for." He took the offending hand and kissed her knuckles.

"How do you know I'm not ready?" she challenged, taking a step closer so that their bodies were pressed together.

Hands still interlocked and trying to keep his excitement to a minimum, he said, "It's just I know in your mind, you've known me less than a week. I can wait as long as you need. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything."

"And I don't. You've been wonderful." She released her right hand and closed the small curtain and pulled him toward the bed. "I want to expression my appreciation and more than that I want to show you that I...love you."

"Oh, honey, I love you too."

She sat down first and he sat down beside her. He wanted her to take the lead, so that she had the power to pull back anytime she wanted. She started by putting a hand on his knee and then slowly and timidly moving northward. She drew him into another kiss, harder this time. For a woman whose romantic interludes were a blank, she was doing a fine job. Better than fine.

"I wish I remembered being with you," she said longingly, taking a break to catch her breath. Her hands were still busy though unbuttoning his shirt. "I wish I remembered our life together."

"We can make new memories," he said, his voice low and rumbly now. He pulled her blouse free from the waistband of her skirt and pulled the pins in her hair out, so that her hair tumbled loose.

She trembled as he pulled a lock of hair up to his lips, not from fear but from passion. It wasn't that she could feel the kiss on her hair, of course, but it was such an adoring gesture.

While he played with her hair, she unbuttoned her own shirt. He was the one to pull it from her shoulders though. He stopped when he got down to her elbows and got angry as he was able to see the fading bruises that peppered her arms. He rolled up the short sleeve of her chemise for a better look.

"What's wrong?" she asked, worry lacing her voice.

"Nothing." He schooled his features and gingerly kissed one of the purplish bruises. She patted his shoulder affectionately in response.

"What if he left me with more than bruises?" she unexpectedly blurted out, putting a halt to things again.

He didn't understand her meaning right away and raised up to look her in the eyes, but her look of worry said it all. He cupped her cheek. "It would still be our baby. I would love him or her because he was a part of you. I would be his daddy."

She wasn't fooled. She knew it would be hard on him. It would be hard on her too, maybe harder in some ways, but she had no doubt he meant the words. "I'm glad I married you even if I don't remember it," she said softly, kissing his forehead. "And I thank God for sending you my way."

"Not as much as I do," he murmured, putting his forehead against hers and that seemed more intimate than anything else they had done yet.

Their arms found their way around each other and she nuzzled his nose with hers before kissing him again.

Clothes gradually began to disappear and they seemed to just dissolve into one another. There was no loss of identities to worry over because their hearts beat as one.

sss

"You need a break, my dear," she said, interrupting his troubled thoughts. "You didn't even come to Mass."

Chauncey looked up at his mother, who had just come into his house unannounced, but then the sheriff's office was open for business.

"You still worried about that poor girl?" she asked sympathetically.

"I want to say her attacker wouldn't do it again and he probably wouldn't, to her anyway, but to other girls who find themselves alone near the saloon..."

"You're a good sheriff, son, to worry so."

No, he wasn't, he thought to himself. A good sheriff would be blind to who it was breaking the law and follow procedures regardless. But wasn't there hope he'd seen the error of his ways in messing with a woman who wasn't a prostitute? Wasn't it his job as the elder brother to help his younger brother turn his life around?

His hand toyed with the ring that still lay heavy in his pocket. Proof that his brother knew at some point during the attack she probably wasn't one and had decided to add thievery to his list of crimes.

"Mother, what do you do when you don't know what the right thing to do is?"

"In my experience, people often know, the problem's actually wanting to do it. It seems easier or better to do the wrong thing, but that's never true."

He wondered if she'd still say that if she knew doing the right thing meant locking one of her sons away in some far-off town for heaven knows how long. Perhaps years.

"So you coming?" she asked. She opened the door back up and mariachi music filtered in. "If you tarry, all the barbacoa will be gone."

"Save me some then. I still got some thinking to do."


	12. Chapter 12

Kid soaked in the closeness he felt to Ruth. Sometimes he took the love they shared for granted because they'd been married so long, but how precious did it seem now after the fear he'd carried that he might not be able to rekindle the love she felt for him. He hadn't even realized how much he'd feared it until he'd heard the words, 'I love you' from her.

Ruth felt connected to her husband. He was no stranger to her now. She looked into his eyes and thought about how could lay here like this forever. The thought seemed to transport her to another time and place where Kid looked a little thinner and younger, but she was still staring into his eyes in a very similar embrace. The sound of rain splashed on canvas lightly at first and then it became a deluge that made the wagon covering fall in on them, making them cold and wet and giving them no choice but to go out and fix it.

"Do you remember the canvas caving in and soaking us?" she asked. "We had to scramble to right it. We got so wet and muddy trying to fix it."

"I remember that," he said with a laugh. "I don't think I had it tied down quite right." He let go of her to sit up, excited, as he realized the full connotation of what she'd said. "You remember too? That was back when were first married. Did you get your memory back?"

"No, just that one," she said, sitting up also. "It came to me all of a sudden like a gift from heaven."

He kissed her in his joy. "It's like we figured. They're returning!"

Gideon's sudden crying made the planned nap completely out of the question.

"Might as well join the children," she said to him as he went to get the baby.

She had finished her new dress and she put it on now. She'd even had enough material left for a bonnet. She spun in a circle. "What do you think?"

"You look beautiful. Like always. The color really suits you."

"Well, thank you. You might want to think about adding some color to your wardrobe too, you know. I think a lot of colors would suit you besides just black."

He grinned at her teasing. "It'd make me an easier target, too. I can fade into the background with black on."

She laughed. "So that's why you wear black, huh?"

She changed Gideon into a fresh cloth diaper while Kid got himself ready and then they were off to join the celebration.

"I'll carry Gideon. He's getting heavy," Kid said. That was only a part of it. He'd seen her bruises. He didn't want Gideon accidentally kicking against them.

Mercy came running up to them. "Come see the cross I helped decorate!"

"I know. We saw you from the window," she said, as she took the little girl's hand. "You did such a good job. It was that sky-blue ribbon right there, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh," she said with a bright smile.

Kid patted the top of Mercy's head with his free hand. "It looks like you been doing it all your life, sweetheart."

They thanked Padre Andrés once again for watching the children and then went to see about getting something to eat. It was as Ruth had expected though and people asked after her health and the revival every few steps, so it was hard getting to the tables with the food and drink.

Mercy, bored with the adult talk, was gathering the soft, fallen petals from the ground like some of the other girls were to make something with them later. She was collecting up a real rainbow and was about to add an orange one to her small handful when a little boy of about 3 or 4 went running by and his foot landed on her hand hard. The child ran on without looking back.

Mercy dropped the petals and held the injured fingers against herself obviously hurt.

All the Coles had witnessed it and they hurried to her side.

"They're not broke, are they?" Ruth asked. "Can you wiggle them?"

She did albeit very slowly. It caused her some pain, but she was able to move them.

"I know it hurts, but you'll live. We can go find some ice cold water to dip them in and you'll be fine and dandy before you know it. Sound good?" Ruth asked.

She nodded and picked up her petals and put them in her pocket.

Isaiah though had turned rip-roaring mad and was ready to pound the other child into the ground. He took off in the little boy's direction with a red face and closed hands.

Kid passed Gideon off for a moment to Ruth and closed an arm around his middle, lifting him up. Isaiah's fists were just a flying and swinging, but thankfully only hitting air. "Too much like me for his own good sometimes." But despite his words, Kid really was proud that Isaiah felt so strongly about protecting his sister. He just couldn't let him do it.

One thing about the struggle he was making, nobody was coming up to them now. Ruth tried to explain it to Isaiah as they walked along in search of the cold water, ignoring the stares they were receiving. "He didn't mean to, honey. He's little like you and still learning how to say he's sorry." Her calm, loving tones and the short explanation stilled his hands, but Kid didn't dare release him until he lost the angry look.

They located a cup of cold water for Mercy's fingers and Isaiah calmed enough to be set down again. Kid took Gideon back, who was sleeping despite the noise of the crowd and the recent drama.

The table laden with food was only a few feet away and Ruth moved to fix Isaiah and Kid a plate since the latter held a baby and the former was too young.

But she froze when she spotted a man in the crowd. She knew that face. It had been more shadowed then and more ugly due to the lust and malice that had marred it, but it was him. What had only been flashes before merged into the terrible memory she had been trying to repress.

"Oh, Lord," she said, asking for mercy.

Kid was right behind her. Her utterances to God were never vain and he saw her sway. "Sit, Mercy," he ordered. The sharpness made her obey without question and he put the baby in her lap. He was just in time to catch Ruth before she hit the ground.

She hadn't fainted, but her breathing was a little shallow. Kid unbuttoned her top two buttons and asked in a whisper if she needed her corset loosened.

She was able to mumble a no. It had nothing to do with tight lacing.

He asked her something else, but she didn't hear because she was searching for her attacker with her eyes. However, he had done a disappearing act into the crowd.


	13. Chapter 13

All the rest of Sister Ruth's memories came flooding back like a dam had burst inside her head.

"It was him," she said, able to draw in deep breaths again.

"Him who?" Kid asked, but he already knew.

"The one from that night," she said, choosing her words carefully because she knew Mercy, and probably Isaiah too, was listening with open ears.

"What'd he look like? Where is he?" He was scanning the crowd for suspicious characters even as he spoke.

"Gone. Probably saw me too and took off. He's about medium build, pouty lips, and dark, wavy hair to his shoulders. He was wearing a long brown duster, gray pants, and a bright blue vest."

That was more than enough to go on. He was torn between wanting to pursue the assailant and not wanting to leave her alone.

Not wanting to leave her alone won out and he helped her to her feet.

"I remember everything now," she said. "My whole life."

He kissed her, not caring they had an audience, though he wished he could tell them to mind their own business. They hadn't stopped watching them since they'd come outside. That was the price of being Kid Cole and Sister Ruth. But the crowd could be useful he realized. He went over to the closest standing people and gave the description Ruth had given him.

"Why of course I know who that is," the man said in reply. "You must be talking about the sheriff's brother."

"The sheriff's brother," Kid said, looking over at Ruth. "Surprise, surprise." His tone said he wasn't surprised at all.

"Maybe he didn't know," she said, always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, he knew. He wouldn't have been so eager for us to leave if he hadn't known."

She grabbed cookies for the children, took Gideon from Mercy, and said to Mercy and Isaiah, "We'll have lunch just as soon as your daddy and I take care of something."

They didn't mind waiting on lunch if it meant having cookies first if their smiles had anything to say about it.

Ruth spoke to Mercy. "You know I wanted a little baby of my very own for just years and years and then God sent me you and your brothers and I can't imagine a person being more blessed than me. You were the quietest baby I'd ever seen. I was half afraid you'd starve."

She grinned as she bit into her gingerbread cookie and then she smiled bigger as she realized her mother remembered her. She gave her daughter a one-armed hug.

Ruth then moved just far enough that the older children wouldn't hear her whispered conversation with Kid. "He didn't hurt me."

"What do you mean he didn't hurt you? I've seen the evidence myself. The knot, the bruises, not to mention your memories."

"I mean he didn't do everything he could have done. He tried at first, but I struggled hard until he only had a good hold on my sleeve, and then I pulled back. The seam of my sleeve ripped and I fell backwards and hit my head. I remember him slipping my ring off and the sound of his footsteps running away before I succumbed to the darkness totally. Thank heaven I hit my head or only the Lord knows what would've happened. He didn't want to listen to anything I had to say."

"That doesn't make me feel any more favorable towards the man. It was by the mercy of God you weren't harmed more and had nothing to do with that son of Lucifer. I'll be jo-fired if he doesn't strongly regret what he's done before the day's through."

"There's no need to swear."

"The blazes there isn't!" he said angrily though the anger had nothing to do with her.

"Let's keep cool heads and go see the sheriff."

"There's another man I'd like to-"

This time her frown quieted him and she continued, "Chances are he'll know where to find his brother."

"How are you keeping so calm? If anything, you should be angrier than me."

"Oh, I am, and I'm scared too. I just want this to all be over."

"I'm sorry, darling." He brought her into a hug, taking care no to crush Gideon in the embrace. "It will be soon."

sss

The sheriff was no longer at his house though. He was at the saloon where there were less patrons than usual because of the holiday. But his brother was there like most days.

He sat down across from him at the small wooden table he occupied. "You look like you're going somewhere." His eyes were on the satchel by Edmond's feet.

"I am. I'm taking a trip until things die down here. Sister Ruth saw me and I'm pretty sure she knew me. It's only a matter of time before Kid Cole decides to put a bullet in me. I'm just getting some liquid courage before I hit the road." And he did look nervous. The nonchalant attitude he'd had before was gone.

"I don't suppose you'll consider giving me back my ring," Edmond asked. "I'll need all the funds I can get."

"No, because it's not your ring."

"Didn't think so. Can't blame me for trying." He drained the rest of his cup.

"Can I ask you something? Did you- did you take advantage of her?"

"She was knocked out cold before I could do more than kiss her."

"What about while she was out? Did you do anything then?"

"Give me some credit. I'm not going to couple with an unconscious woman."

"Just a protesting one. Is that it?"

"I thought she was playing hard to get. I told you before I didn't know who she was. That's all women are good for is getting you in trouble. She shouldn't have been nowhere near that saloon, the she-devil."

Was he really trying to put the blame for his actions on her? How could a man, his own brother, feel no remorse for the evil he had done and tried to do? And that's what helped him decide. That and the people of the town trusted him to do the right thing. Maybe Sister Ruth most of all.

Edmond had stood up and picked up his satchel. "Well, I'm off. Tell Mother goodbye for me. Don't know when I'll be back."

Chauncey had stood up with him. He spun him around and clapped the handcuffs on him before he took a step towards the door.

"What are you doing?" Edmond asked, blinking in confusion. His brother couldn't seem to comprehend that he'd just been arrested.

"What I should have done in the first place."


	14. Chapter 14

"Where the devil is he?" Kid wanted to know.

"Not here," Ruth answered. "We'll wait. I'm sure he'll be right back." She went in since the door was open and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Kid had no choice but to follow her in and sit with her though he would've rather been doing something more proactive.

The only ones less thrilled than him were the children because they had no toys with them. Ruth kept them occupied with singing though Isaiah never joined in. He did sometimes imitate Kid with an air guitar, but he was mostly content to listen.

"You looking for my son?" asked a cheerful voice.

Kid rose to his feet out of respect for a lady and because he had a question. "Both of them actually. You know where they are?"

"I don't know. Edmond's out enjoying the celebration, I believe. Chauncey was here, working. I brought his lunch because he refuses to take time off." She set it on the desk and both Mercy and Isaiah were eyeing it hungrily. "How are you, Sister Ruth? It's just dreadful to think something like this could happen in our little town."

"Better. My memory's returned."

"Why that's wonderful! Then that means you can tell Chauncey who did it," Mrs. Daniels gushed.

Ruth was spared having to answer that because Sheriff Daniels came in with Edmond. She was beyond relieved to see it though her heart hurt for Mrs. Daniels. Though Kid never set out to kill, she'd been scared that he might have not have been able to control his temper. She thanked God it had ended this way.

"Your ring, ma'am," Sheriff Daniels said.

Kid intercepted it and put it on her himself. "Glad to see you made the right choice, Sheriff, or I would've had to help you make it."

"I don't understand," Mrs. Daniels said. "What's going on here?"

Edmond remained tight-lipped, but Chauncey answered. "It was him, I'm ashamed to say."

Mrs. Daniels blanched and grabbed the corner of the desk for to have something to hold on to.

Edmond was glaring at Sister Ruth as if she was the source of all his troubles.

"You keep looking at my wife like that and you ain't going to be looking at anything but the backs of your eyelids," Kid groused in his low baritone.

"I'll pray to find a way to forgive you," Ruth said to Edmond even as she linked arms with Kid to help keep him composed. "Fortunately for you, the Lord will without question if you ask Him."

Kid humphed as if he didn't think it probable Edmond would ask and that was sadly most likely to be the case. Though one never knew for sure.

"You'll probably need to testify at the trial," Chauncey said, looking at Ruth apologetically.

"No need. I'll confess." Edmond wasn't ignorant of the law. Rape could mean capital punishment. In his case, it was only attempted rape along with theft and battery, but a confession of guilt was still probably the best way to go to get the lightest sentencing. And Sister Ruth had enough of a following that avoiding justice could mean mob action. There was also the fact that the fastest gunslinger in the west was watching him as if looking for an excuse to have to shoot him. Behind bars was probably the safest place for him to be.

"I'll ride with ya'll, Sheriff," Kid said. "You'll forgive me if I don't trust either of you."

"We'll give ya'll some time alone to say goodbye though," Ruth said, shooing her family out the door. As a mother, she couldn't imagine the pain that had to come from knowing you'd failed to raise a child the way they should go. To know your son had chosen evil over following the Lord. She held the baby in her arms closer and prayed her children would all choose the right path, the way called straight and narrow.

"I didn't like that man," Mercy spoke up now that they were away from the strangers. She knew from the way the adults spoke he was the reason her mother had lost her memory.

"That's why we should pray all the harder for him," Ruth said and she meant the words even if she didn't quite feel them.

sss

Edmond was behind bars. And would be for many years to come. Kid hadn't returned to Socorro until he was sure of that.

Kid took Ruth to the saloon. A part of him would have been happy if she never darkened the door of such a place again, but he knew it was a part of who she was to reach out to the lost that most of society shunned. And so he supported her as they stood side by side, looking at the door.

Ruth held 2 Bibles. One was her Bible and the other was the Bible she'd never gotten to deliver. It like hers had survived the assault and the rain though its cover didn't look quite so perfect as it had before.

She was afraid. Though Edmond was no longer a threat, the world and particularly the saloon seemed a little more threatening than it had before. She had a tendency to treat the men there like overgrown boys and while some of them might have been, some of them were very dangerous.

She would one day see them as poor lost souls loved by the Creator again, she knew, and not just menacing figures out to do her harm. But she'd certainly be more careful in the future and make sure that it was either daylight or Kid was along.

It was the book in her hand that finally propelled her forward into the building and the knowledge that the Lord walked before her.

It wasn't the men she was ministering to today though. She asked the saloon owner to speak with one of his girls. A request he started to turn down until Kid reminded him who he was with a harsh look.

The woman was short and plump but pretty with her dark Hispanic looks.

"Are you Juanita's sister? The lady who wanted the Bible?"

"I'm no lady, but yes. I've been wanting to read it for some time. Can you believe I've never even opened the book in my life unless you count the catechism. I thought you'd forgotten me."

"I'd forgotten a lot of people. Myself included. It really reminded me how you can't even trust your own mind. You can only trust God." She handed her the Bible.

"Why would you go to so much trouble for a stranger?" the woman asked, hugging the book against her chest. She'd no doubt heard all that had happened to her and wondered why she'd ventured here again.

"Because of love. God's love. He went to so much trouble for me when Jesus came to pay the price of sin. And He did it for you too." _And for Edmond_ , she reminded herself.

 _Real Universe_

Some of Sister Ruth's memories weren't so pleasant. She also found the older she got, the more she struggled with names or even to recall what she did yesterday. But she didn't fret over it. God was Lord over her memories too.

Human beings were naturally forgetful creatures; there was no denying that. The word "remember" was sprinkled throughout scripture as a command from the Lord. Remember Me, it often said.

Holy communion was done for the purpose of not forgetting that Christ had poured out His blood and sacrificed His flesh that man might be restored to God. "Do this in remembrance of Me."

Even her marriage to Kid was to be a testimony and a remembrance by pointing to Christ and His Bride. She by submitting to her husband's love and leadership represented the church, and he by loving her enough to lay down everything for her, even his life, and giving the best he had to give represented Jesus.

Still, despite all this, she sometimes did forget God's truths. She wouldn't be human if she didn't. But the Lord was patient, remembering she was but dust and He revealed Himself to her daily in His word and in His creation.

A verse flitted through her head. " Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them."

She had been able to do that, more or less, and she was blessed for it. Kid had been a late convert and sometimes she sensed how the weight of those pleasureless years bore down on him. But the Lord was gracious to forgive and He accepted the young as well as the old so long as they came while there was yet life.

She squeezed his hand affectionately. He let go of her hand, so he could put his arm around her waist and pull her closer to him.

She could tell he was recalling an unpleasant time now by the frown lines on his forehead. "If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart."

He looked at her and grinned, knowing it was scripture she spoke and the words did what they were intended to do, which was ease his burden. "How do you know me so well?"

"Because I love you. God is greater than our past, our sins, and the unforgiveness we have towards ourselves."

He kissed the top of her head. "And I love you. Thank you for never letting me wallow in self pity and always reminding me of the Lord's goodness."

The one thing people did seem to recall with great clarity was the wrongs done to them, but God didn't, she knew. The Lord promised something miraculous in return for remembering Him and His ways, He promised to forget man's sins.

The End


End file.
